Page 143 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Maybe Mr. Handsome is giving you a break since you’re so close to leaving.”
“Oh my god, please stop calling him that. He’s like a hundred. It’s so gross.”
“He’s like fifty.”
“Same thing.”
Monica hitched up her shoulders. “Still hot.”
“You have serious daddy issues.”
“And you don’t?” she shot back, bringing a grin to my face.
I was about to respond when I heard loud pops off in the distance. The way Monica tilted her head told me she heard them too.
“Fireworks?” she questioned.
I moved to the window and peeked through the blinds. I saw nothing, but there was another round… Pop, pop, pop, pop.“Remember that third foster home I told you about? The one down in Miami?”
Monica nodded.
“Well, that was in a real bad area…”
Pop, pop, pop.
“Lots of gang activity, shootings, stuff like that. It’s part of why I didn’t last very long there.”
Pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop.
“And…” Monica had thick wrinkle lines in her forehead as she glanced toward the window.
“And it sounded a lot like this.”
CHAPTER TWO
Suddenly, I heard shouting coming from the hallway. Shouting and banging. Shouting and banging joining the chorus of pops in the distance.
“What the fuck?” I rushed toward the door, opened it, and glanced out to see Mr. Malcolm hurrying down from the other end of the hall, banging on each door as he went by.
“Everybody get up and get out!” he yelled. “Gymnasium in T-minus two minutes. This is not a drill!”
As he got closer to us and the other kids started crowding around him with curious gazes, Monica and I met him in the hallway.
“What’s going on, Mr. Malcolm?” I asked, concern causing the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Sweat lined his forehead, dribbling over the thick creases between his brows and down the sides of his nose. “There isn’t time to talk right now, ladies.” He turned to the group of children behind him, not heading to the gymnasium as he asked but looking at him like they were waiting for some sort of explanation as the popping continued in the background. Each pop made Mr. Malcolm flinch and his eyes flit warily toward the windows. “Everyone listen to me!” he called out, waving his big hands in the air. “Grab a pillow and blanket, toothbrush and toothpaste, then get to the gymnasiumnow. Please! We will explain everything there, but you must go now!”
“What the hell is going on?” I asked Monica, more out of confusion and disbelief than expecting an answer.
Mr. Malcolm grabbed each of my shoulders gently, carrying more concern in his eyes than I’d ever seen before. “Ashe, you need to move! Go!”
I didn’t waste another moment. I rushed with Monica toward our room where we grabbed pillows, blankets, toothbrushes, and toothpaste as Mr. Malcolm had advised. I also grabbed a bar of soap and the latest book I was reading,One Second Afterby William R. Forstchen. We then raced with the pack of other kids toward the gymnasium, the pops growing louder and black smoke billowing in the far distance.
As we reached the gymnasium, we noticed Dr. McCormick boarding up the windows with plywood and a nail gun. Helping her was the receptionist, Mrs. Keane, though she was too old to be of much help. Mr. Garrity, head of home placement, CPA, and CFO for Carvill’s, and Bobby Carvill—that redneck piece of shit in his dirty John Deere hat and oversized flannel shirt—was there too. Monica and I reached the door, and just as we entered, I realized Bobby had his eyes on me, hungry eyes. That was a common occurrence, more so when he had been drinking, which was more often than not by that point.
Inside the gymnasium, Dr. Ruby, the director of STEM or Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics, lanky and pale with a thick mustache and frizzled hair, and Mr. Mejia, the director of sports, athletics, physical fitness, and nutrition, were setting up cots in the room. Mr. Mejia noticed our approach and made his way toward us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, find yourself a cot, and just relax,” he said, though he didn’t look all that relaxed himself. His salt and pepper hair was coated in sweat, his hands placed firmly at his wide hips. He had a thick ass that we always gave him shit for. We told him he’d make a great gay man with a bodunk like that. He didn’t appreciate that much but said his wife found it hysterical when he shared the story back home.
